Halloween Revenge

For the last 10 years, kids have been festooning your home with toilet-paper sashes on Halloween night. Unfortunately for them, this is the year you finally decided to get even. Write about your night of retaliation.

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

You might also like:

20 thoughts on “Halloween Revenge

  1. WriterBella

    “Ready the stations”
    I whispered. Luke sighed
    “Jane don’t you think this is a little extreme.. even for you?”
    “Nothing is to extreme when it comes to revenge!”
    I hushly snapped at my friend. Luke shrugged his green eyes filled with a playful glow.
    “Alright captain Jane”
    Luke said doing a fake and quick salute. I shook my head and grabbed my nerf gun and set it up. I squinted to see outside in the foggy Halloween air. Not this year. I’ll show them.

    Soon they came. Holding to lite paper rolls and eggs at arm. I loaded my nerf gun as they started to laugh about are cheep Halloween decorations. I squinted and aimed.
    “Fire!”
    I yelled. Luke and I started a rapid fire at the group of older teenagers. Are nerf bullets were tipped with sticky chewed gum. One of the kids screamd in sudden shock as several gum tipped bullets hit him nail on in the face. I shot three bullets at a blond teenage girl and she screamed and darted off dropping her roll of toilet paper. The others started a mad dash after her, dropping there toilet paper and eggs on are lawn.

    “We won!”
    I exclaimed Luke did a little victory dance with his nerf gun swinging high in the air.
    “That will teach them not to T.P are house again!”

  2. laurentravian

    “The enemy is in target range.”
    “Well, for heavens sake, Annie, fire!”
    “Mom, isn’t this a little… drastic?
    “No Chris, it isn’t. And we wouldn’t need to do this if you had just taken Annie there and back instead of talking to that girl I don’t approve of.”
    “Mom!”
    “Your father agrees with me. Now fire Chris! They’re in your range!”
    “I got one, Mom!”
    “Good job, Annie! You get a tootsie pop!”
    “Mom… they aren’t approaching on my point.”
    “At least you’re trying Jeanie. Would you like to take over Chris’s job? Make sure you tie him up before you go so he can’t warn them.”
    “Okay, Mom.”
    They grow up so fast… Jeanette got really into the spirit of this. She tied Chris up (I was kidding!) and took his role. You may ask what I am talking about. 🙂 It all started last week. Chris had taken Annie to the arcade. Of course, his girlfriend with the tongue piercing (that must be comfortable) works there. So instead of watching Annie and making sure she only played a few games, and stayed AWAY from the concession stand and Ignatius Everson, Chris chatted with his girlfriend. And Annie took advantage of the situation, playing most of the prohibited games, drinking Grape-Cola (which always makes her crazy), and talking to Ignatius, her arch enemy. Somehow, the topic got to Halloween, and SOMEHOW, Ignatius vowed to attack our house with everything he had. I soon found this meant 15 water balloon catapults, 9 munchkins willing to wield egg-guns, 18 egg-guns, and 21 cans of shaken Grape-Cola, to launch specially at Annie. My husband was out of town, and I didn’t have any cases this week, so I had to help the children prepare. We made disgusting preparations; we bought eggs, let them ferment, forwent the toilet in favor of plastic cups: the contents of which were poured through a funnel into balloons, soured milk, and even let Annie cook her mud pie. (Which includes untreated sewer water, mud, harmless bits of junk from the dump, earthworms, and every expired ingredient in my fridge. Sound appetizing?) At last, we were ready. Chris was reluctant to help, but he did, because I promised him a laptop. (Note: I didn’t say WHEN he would get said laptop, or what kind of laptop it would be.) We were in the heat of the battle. Chris had been released, and my three children had moved the defensive to the lawn. They were attacking, and I was helping from the roof. Of course, I could tell exactly which child was which. There was Ignatius (I aimed a mud pie at him) and there was Annie, and wait- was that Ignatius boy stealing my baby’s first kiss?! Wow. Maybe I should have let them spend more time together. I stopped throwing things. This was better than a soap opera. Because now Ignatius was lying on the ground in pain, and Annie was striding back towards the house. Ignatius crawled after her, but she was too fast. Jeanette and Chris were left on their own. I aimed another pie, when who should drive up but Walter in his Mercedes? And oops. My beautiful car- ruined. Actually, most of it got on Walter. The fighting stopped. Jeanette, my fifteen year old, had three munchkins on her. Chris had fended most off, mostly because he was seventeen and tall for his age, and Annie, my thirteen year old, leaned her head out her window, stuck out her arm, and aimed a rotten egg at Ignatius. Everyone stared at everyone else. Then Walter spoke. “Happy Halloween! Now get off my property, urchins! And you! You and you too! You three are grounded. And Lauren, I will talk to you later!” Ah well. It worked out in the end. 🙂

  3. msgee

    Quicksand and oil-based dog pheromone spray in brown paper shopping bags, new sprinkler system and small water tank, sent my three dogs to a sympathetic neighbor and had a quick lying word with Code Enforcement about pest problems in my yards.

    The little punks were going to be surprised this year.

    I’d been careful because they watch the houses they intend to T.P., pushing their bedtimes as far as they can.

    First I and my young two sons and daughter outwaited them – not easily done, and the wife wanted nothing to do with it. And during those two weeks or so we dug a small ditch around the house, filled the ditch with quicksand, then put the dirt back in and lightly tamped it down, all under the pretense of doing something about the damn pests.

    Step two was installing the sprinkler system and hooking it up to the water tank. Periodically, it was turned on to keep the “treatment” and surrounding areas damp. KEEP OUT signs added a nice touch.

    Step three was hooking a few of the sprinkler heads to both yards’ taps, poured some of the spray into the water tank and moved the other heads’ directions.

    Done.

    On Halloween afternoon we did nothing unusual, we acted normal, came home from school and work and stayed there.

    Then. Finally. Word came of the brats’ attacks. Curse-filled vows filled the night as house after house was decorated in thin paper visions of white.

    Wait for it…wait for it…

    Suddenly the battle-blooded fools burst into my yards, their weapons at the ready.

    And here came the dogs, from the back.

    When they caught the strange-dog whiff they got pissed. Who dared to invade their domain?

    Annoyed dogs cause primal fear. So the brats dropped their rolls and ran forward. Through the pheromone-soaked grass and right into the quicksand, panicking when their sneakers got stuck. All they had to do was yank up, but their fear made them stupid.

    My kids carefully came out and restrained the dogs. When the brats saw my daughter they tried to suck it up, because which man likes to show fear in a woman’s presence?

    But they were going to see my kids in school later on, and fear of the dogs, fear for their reputations, and seemingly being unable to get unstuck combined. They couldn’t stay, they couldn’t leave. They freaked out.

    Oh horrors!

    Then there were sirens and lights as a few police cars and a dog catcher van approached the front yard.

    It was my cue. I ran to the front door and opened it.

    “THEY’RE TRESPASSING!” I yelled, and pointed to the KEEP OUT signs.

    That was enough of a verbal warrant. The dogs were taken away and the blubbering brats were yanked away.

    Ah, what a series of messes I was going to have to deal with. But that was okay. I was already thinking of what to do next year.

  4. Cloud Strife

    The same three kids snuck onto my lawn with toilet paper and eggs in hand. I waited looking out the window for my traps to spring. Every year they destroy my house with their silly games. Not this time. This will be their last. I saw the leader motion to the other ones to join him. The other two came out of the bushes. Good thing I remembered to place the sign on the lawn. I chuckled to myself as I saw the leader approach my first trap. I wait in anticipation. There was a loud click. The kids paused. They stared at their leader. He paused. Waited for a few seconds then lifted his foot. I heard a whizzing noise. The saw blade stuck the kid in his leg. He went down crying. Blood was flowing from his leg. The other two kids saw this and tried to escape. There was another click and a second saw blade came down on the kid hitting him in his head. I laughed so hard when that kid got it. “That kid will have a permanent head ache! Boy howdy!” I laughed. His lifeless body hit the ground. The third kid screamed in terror and peed his pants. He tried to escape but got strung up on the trap. As he dangled from the tree by the rope around his ankle, I went outside and met him, “What you doing kid?” I asked him. He peed his pants again. Crying he said, “Please don’t hurt me.” I giggled and retorted, “It’s your fault that people don’t like Halloween.” I grabbed his shirt and took out my knife. Cutting the rope he fell to the ground. “Let me go,” he struggled. I held my grip firm and drug him in the house. ‘I will have fun with this one’, I whispered to myself. After dragging him in the house, I continued to drag him to the basement. “What are you doing Mister?” He pleaded. “Let me go let me go!” I didn’t say anything. I drug him down the stairs and threw him to the wall. I heard his back snap as he hit the wall screaming out in pain, “Mister I will kill you if you don’t let me go.” I glared at him, “Really?” Walking over the the adjacent wall were my lawn tools. I chose the pick axe. The boy trying to crawl away screamed, “Please mister…” I interrupted him, “Shut up you maggot.” Gripping my pick axe I held it high over my head and with one swift motion and full force I drove the spike end into his skull. Blood splattered everywhere. I laughed so hard I almost peed my own pants. Moments later I realized I was still staring at my blank screen waiting to conjure something up for the writing assignment. “Hi Mister!” The little kids waved at me from the street. I waved back with a smile through my office window. ‘Halloween is in 2 nights boys. I will wait for you.’ I thought.

  5. TwoTwistedWorlds

    Halloween. Once my favorite holiday, now nothing but a headache.
    Every year, without fail, my house was the object of childerns pranks.
    Every. Year.
    ‘Well,’ I chuckled inwardly to myself, a sick smile splitting my pale face. ‘that is about to change.’

    I watched as the childern approached my humble home, eyes flashing with a malice I never thought I could hold. I heard them giggle, a tinkering of bells from my own little Hell, as they brought the acursed roll of two-ply from under their cloaks.
    The demon in me snapped free of its paper prison, flinging itself at the childern.
    Screams pierced my mind like a needle.
    But in reality, not one noise was made.
    Blood drenched my hands. My face. My hair. My shirt.
    But in reality there was no warmth that drenched me.
    In reality, no mess was there, no childern.
    Not anymore.

    Looking to the doctor in front of me with blank, like virgin paper, eyes, I felt like I was drifting.
    The words he spoke were slurred, nothing but static in my ears, caused by the medicine I know they slip into my food.
    But I remember, at least I think I do, the year before now, when I was not surrounded by white.
    Oh, how I miss the color red in this colorless life.
    Which is like the toilet paper. The irony of it.

  6. Aragedy Kilof

    The house sat at the end of Oak Street, alone on top of a small hill where it could be seen clearly from the town High School a half mile down the road. Once a stately Victorian manner it now wore neglect like a mantle of shame, its former glory obscured by vines, peeling paint and missing shingles. Dr. Albert Johanson,PhD, MD had linherited it , along with a large sum of money, from his great aunt Jessica right after the National Institutes of Health had fired him. The timeliness of his good fortune reinforced his opinion that the universe would provide for him, that he was acactuayl chosen by fortune to change the world, to be recognized as the genius that he was.
    For almost 40 years the house had stood as a tempation to the teenagers that saw it daily. It was a local right of passage to journey up the tree lined street on dark nights and toss a rock at a window, spread a bag of garbage on the lawn, or if you were really brave and had a willing partner, make out on the crumbling front porch. All of these activites were crowned by the annual senior activity of teepeeing the giant oak in the front yard on Haloween night.
    While all this went on, the normal activities of a small midwestern town, Dr Johanson focused on his research and slowly drained his trust fund. He would occasionally run out of the house yelling, his crazed white hair flying around his sunken and pale face. Most kids who were confronted by him in this way never returned to the house. His appearances were the stuff of nightmares.
    On this particular Haloween the scientist had plans that would achieve several of his long festering desires. He would teach the town a lesson while showing the world that he had changed science forever.

    Max Alvarez parked his Mom’s minivan in the school parking lot and he and his friends tumbled out, laughing with nervousness and excitement. By arranging the annual attack on the Johanson house he had raised his social standing, and gained the attention of Hanna. Hanna was the mayors daughter and by far the most beutiful girl inmtheir class. And Max had secretly been in love with her since fourth grad. Maybe he could even talk her into a trip to the porch?
    As the teens walked up the street the doctor saw them pass under the last streetlight. He huddled behind a hedge in front of the celler door, laying one hand on the latch to steady his nervouse tremors. He wispered toward the door “it is almost time.. Almost time to show you to the world.” An insistent scratching on the doors was all that answered him.
    The group stood under the oak tree, toilet paper in hand. Max winked at Hanna and let his role fly up and over the tree. The others followed his lead and soon the full moon shown down on gracefully arching streamers of paper. After Max had tossed his four rolls he looked around for Hanna and found her standing on the porch, smiling and beckoning him with her finger. He grinned with anticipation and started to walk slowly towards the house, trying to not look too eager.
    A loud gowel came from the hedge next to him as he saw Dr Johanson step into the moonlight . The doctor wore a filthy white coat and smelled worse than he looked. Max frooze and tried to think of a way out of this when he felt a searing pain in his arm. Looking down he saw a claw with knife like tallons dig into his flesh and tear his arm from his shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound all over Dr Johanson’s grinning face as the creature stepped closer to Alex and roared
    It was at least seven feet tall and looked like some sort of a mix between a gorilla and a lion. Raising its massive jaws to the sky it roared again and Alex heard his friends begin to scream.
    “Do you like my creation, you little brat?” asked Dr Johanson. “They didn’t believe me. They didn’t want to except that gene therapy and cloning could be used to create new life. To create new live that specifically met one’s needs. Now they will have to admit that I was right.”
    The doctor ended with a mad cackle that almost drowned out the sound of the creatures roar. Max fell to his knees, feeling his hold on consciousness slip as blood spilled onto the trash filled lawn. He looked towards the porch and saw Hanna in the arms of the beast. It leaned down as if to kiss her and bit through her throat, severing her head.
    Alex fell backward and ended looking up at the sky. As his vision faded ,along with his life, he noticed the wind blowing the streams of toilet paper in the moonlight. It was really very beautiful the way they fluttered in the wind.

  7. Icabu

    I sat on my hands in a hard chair. The room was dingy and cold. As instructed, I stared at the dirty table, stealing glances when I wanted. I was stuck in there with three others: two Suits, Tall Guy and Taller Guy, and The Lady.

    The Lady stood. The two Suits followed, their chairs shot across the room, one tipping over with a loud clatter. No one seemed to notice but me, and I kept my eyes on the table. I didn’t really want to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible not to. They shouted a lot. The Suits towered over The Lady, even with her tall, spindly shoes.

    “It was self defense,” The Lady said. She slapped the table. “Clear cut.”

    “The neighbors report that Mr. Dombrowski’s house has been targeted for the last ten years,” Taller Guy said. His voice growled, like getting toilet paper on your house was unthinkable on Halloween night.

    “Shows pattern of behavior,” Tall Guy added. He’d spoken like that was all that needed to be said, the conversation should be over.

    “Dombrowski’s the one who brought deadly force into this situation.” She slapped the table again. “A .357 magnum against toilet paper; is that justice?” Again, she slapped. I began to wonder what the table ever did to her. “Toilet paper, gentlemen,” she finished, crossing her arms.

    I glanced up from the table just for a second. The Lady smiled. I could see her face in the huge mirror on the wall in front of me. Her smile looked creepy, not like something was funny.

    “I talked to the neighbors, too, gentlemen,” The Lady said, her voice quiet now. “They all say that Mr. Dombrowski wanted revenge against ‘the snot-nosed kids’.” She’d changed her voice at the end to sound like someone else talking.

    “Dombrowski’s the one who got shot in cold blood,” Taller Guy said. I heard his clenched teeth grind when he spoke.

    Walking up to Tall Guy, The Lady tilted her head back to get in his face. “Self defense,” she repeated. She walked back to my table, slapped it again right in front of me. “Twelve years old, gentlemen, and saving a seven-year-old from a crazed madman with a gun – he’s going to be a hero, not convicted of murder.” From the corner of my eye, I could see her finger pointing at me. I felt the Suits’ eyes burning into me.

    I didn’t like the Suits. It was obvious they didn’t like me. We’d probably T-P’d their houses a few times over the years. I’d been upholding the neighborhood Halloween tradition for four years. This was my first year in charge of the south-side group.

    I heard the two Suits leave the room. The Lady packed papers in her briefcase. “Your dad is outside to take you home.” She didn’t seem glad that she’d won against the Suits.

    My feet swung lazily under the table; I nodded. I began thinking about next Halloween.

  8. ritersblk

    I can’t say I have the best children in the world, but compared to the neighbors’ kids, mine definitely rule the roost. What one child lacks in intelligence, mine excel. Take the SAT’s for example. June’s child, Robert, never studies for anything…EVER,! My Timothy, however, begins to study months in advance. He’s the perfect little go-getter. He won’t let anything, or anyone get in his way, so you can just imagine how he felt when Halloween arrived.
    Timmy is a planner. He has to know exactly what’s going on so that he can plan how he’s going to tackle situations. It shows in his schoolwork, his social life, and anything else he does. He’s been looking forward to this particular Halloween for years.
    It all began on October 31,2001 when our doorbell rang. I went to answer it preparing to hand out candy. Normally, on this day, the bell would ring, the door would open, and I would see monsters of all shapes and sizes at my door asking for candy. This day, however, there were monsters, but not the kind standing at the door with their bags open for candy, no; these were a different breed of monsters. When I went to the door this time, the monsters have all run away. Instead of seeing ghosts and goblins, to my amazement I found every tree in my yard covered with toilet paper. From the tippy- tops of my trees all the way down the trunk, and even buried down into the roots. Looking out the front door, it looked like a huge snowstorm in October. This was not done by ordinary children, it looked quite professional. Somebody has been doing this for ten years now, and it is now time to stop.
    Because Timmy is such a planner, I gave him the job of trying to come up with a way to put this prank to an end. “What a creative child I have”, I thought. Unbeknownst to me, Timmy had a plan in mind. For ten years, he would take the toilet paper down and put it in his room. He took that toilet paper and used it to create hundreds of skeletons. It was amazing. He took all these skeletons and hung them high in the trees. He then put the extra toilet paper and loosely put it on the top of their head as if they were wearing hats. The branches had invisible wire that he tied on and strung them all the way to his bedroom window. When the trick or treaters came tonight, they were in for a big surprise. Timmy would pull the string so the skeletons began to dance, then, at the end of their performance, would take a bow, and cover all the trick or treaters with toilet paper. Talk about payback!

  9. PDayne

    Tonight is All Hallows’ Eve. And every year, on this night, it’s the same thing. After the sun goes down the neighborhood urchins… affectionately speaking of course… sneak around my yard and toilet paper my beautiful willow trees, trampling my flowerbeds. I work so hard on my lovely pansy beds and it only takes these skittering rug rats… affectionately speaking of course… one night to ruin everything.

    You see, they think I’m a witch because I’m a little crooked in the back and a bit long in the tooth. And, I know my house looks a sight with its peeling grey paint, rickety shutters, and creaky front porch. It’s hard for an old woman to make all the needed repairs. And those greasy-fingered, ankle biters… affectionately speaking of course… have wicked, little imaginations and are bent on my torment.

    For me, it’s the best holiday of the year, when all my loved ones come for a reunion. They’ve been dead for quite some time so this yearly visit is extra special. On this night the veil between worlds is thinnest, but it still takes a lot of work to get them here. And it’s never as pleasant as it could be thanks to those little hooligans… affectionately speaking of course.

    Now where’s my big, black pot?

    I have much to do to prepare. It’s important to add the correct ingredients so evil spirits will stay away and allow the dead to pass freely from the other side. This is serious stuff and shouldn’t be interrupted by a bunch of giggling monsters… affectionately speaking of course. Bad things could happen if I don’t properly tend to my recipes.

    Eye of newt, blood of dragon…

    And those scalawags… affectionately speaking of course… leave the most awful mess, toilet paper sticking to all creation. Even my cat ends up wrapped in the streaming madness. It’s hard for me, an old, bent-over woman with failing eyesight, to clean up such a disaster.

    Seed of moon vine, dash of mugwort…

    I spend hours, on the evening of this special day, making my recipes so everything will go smoothly for my guests and me.

    Mix everything together until… OH MY… yes, that nice puff of smoke. It’s just right.

    Those pint-sized guttersnipes… affectionately speaking of course… should be taught a lesson. Picking on a sweet, harmless, old woman like myself.

    Recipe is done. Did I remember to add evil goblin repellant? Oh, I’m sure it’s in there. Wouldn’t want any of those charming children to get eaten while playing in my yard.

    Oh, laughter is good for the soul. I’m feeling an extra bit of delight this evening. Best get out in the yard and spread my concoction so I can get on with the night’s festivities. I have a feeling it will be a very nice All Hallows’ Eve this year.

    Oh, my pansies do look lovely.

  10. StacyHoff

    I crouched by the open window, fueled by leftover candy and thoughts of my revenge, and pulled my jacket tighter with one hand while clutching my trusty flashlight in the other. The air coming in through the window was getting cooler now that it was well after dark. I knew they would come, I just had to stay awake and wait.

    Half an hour later I saw a car pulling up to the side yard with the headlights off. The boys jumped out, no costumes or jackets, armed only with rolls of toilet paper. My heart beat a little faster as I realized that this was the perfect scenario. I gave them a few minutes to get going and then crept out of the house and around to the front yard. The boys had good throwing arms; the rolls were flying high and catching toilet paper high in the trees before streaming back down.

    I clicked on my flashlight and shone it around the yard, catching startled faces in the blinding beam.
    “Stop right there! I know your parents and I’ve already called the police! If you don’t want big trouble, you’ll do exactly what I say!”
    The boys dropped the remaining rolls and hesitantly moved toward me, waiting for my instructions. I knew they expected to be told to pick it all up. And that’s exactly what I told them. They quickly picked up all they could reach while chuckling about their foiled misdeed.
    “That’s all we can get, Mister Mac, we’re sorry, can we go now? It’s a little cold out here.”
    I smile and shake my head as I pull out the secret weapons. I had bought two new garden hoses and spray nozzles just for this occassion. They were hooked up and ready to go. I squeezed a nozzle trigger to make my point.
    “Get ALL of it down.”
    The boys gaped at me in astonishment at my cleverness. They probably would have made a break for it at that point, but just then, with timing perfection, a cop car drove up.
    “These boys bothering you, sir?”
    “Oh no officer, they are helping me clean up this mess. They were just about to finish up by hosing down the high stuff.”
    The police officer stood next to me as we watched the last of the toilet paper getting washed out of the trees. It was midnight and the boys were wet and shivering when I finally thanked them and told them they might want to crank up the heater on the way home.
    My new cop friend followed them down the road for a few miles to make sure they didn’t reconsider.

  11. chilo

    The kids in the neighborhood don’t realize that this year’s fiasco is not going to happen. Every year, they cover my house with toilet paper sashes on Halloween Night, but this year, it’s my turn. I’ll just add some traps around the house where they usually trample through silently and it will all be over for good. My little scheme will probably wake up the neighborhood. I think it’s worth the effort. Each trap is different. One trap is filled with a special glue. The other filled with tar. The other is filled with shards of glass– Oh, I’m not mean about this. It does get tedious to discover the sashes the next morning when all you want to do is head for a brisk walk. Not this time.
    On the actual night, my retaliation would be complete. I just have to wait for them to show up. I’ll sit here in the dark drinking my hot chocolate. I won’t make a peep. Wait! I hear something outside. A rustling around the bushes. A scream! No, many screams! A-ha! I’ve got them now. Let’s see what we find those kids in.
    “Miss, help us please.”
    I can’t believe it! The nuisance were not a bunch of scrawny kids but the old seniors from the Community Center down the block!

  12. tlcall01

    “Hi kids,” Mr. Donaldson stepped out from behind the hedge, tapping a Louisville Slugger in the palm of his hand. Amidst the shrieks and screams of the other kids, I took off running. I looked back to see him lunging after some of the slower kids. Then I saw him latch onto the collar of one of the younger boys. “Damn,” I cussed under my breath, stopping in my tracks; Mr. Donaldson had a hold of my little brother.

    I crept back through the yards and watched from behind the neighbor’s car as Mr. Donaldson dragged a kicking and screaming Tommy toward his house. I’ll give it to Tommy; he sure put up a fight. Suddenly, Mr. Donaldson stopped and said something to Tommy I couldn’t hear. Whatever threat he issued caused Tommy to stop struggling. They walked toward his house, Mr. Donaldson kicking at an abandoned toilet paper roll that littered his lawn.

    I looked up to see the results of our handy-work, toilet paper dangling from tree branches twisted like ghouls in the October night. This was the third year in a row we had papered Mr. Donaldson’s house, the first year I let my little brother talk me into tagging along. Now, because of him, because of me, we were busted. Mr. Donaldson was a bachelor who lived alone on our block, making him the perfect target for our Halloween pranks. I squatted behind the car and watched as he led Tommy inside. I knew I had to get Tommy out of there. I’d have to round up the gang and come up with a plan.

    Crouched in the bushes beneath Mr. Donaldson’s window, I tried seeing inside. “Can you see anything?” Troy hissed, peering around me, trying to get a better look. “Not with your big head in the way,” I said, shoving at Troy’s head. “It’s too dark,” said Jack. “Poor Tommy,” Emily chimed in. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” I said. “Troy, knock on the door. When he answers, the three of you yell ‘Trick-or-Treat’ and…” “Wait,” Troy interrupted. “We aren’t dressed for ‘Trick-or-Treat.’” “That hardly matters,” I bit off. “Now, knock on the door, or ring the bell,” I added, shooting Troy a look to prevent further arguments, “When he answers, yell ‘Trick-or-Treat;’ I’ll run past him, find Tommy, and get out of there.”

    After Troy rang the bell, we waited for what seemed like an eternity, my heart hammering in my chest. When Mr. Donaldson opened the door, everyone froze. I looked around and yelled, “Trick-or-Treat,” pushing past him. I ran back toward his kitchen, calling for Tommy, bursting through the door. For the second time that night, I stopped in my tracks. Staring back at me was a room full of people, parents to be exact, our parents. Some were sitting, others standing. Conversations trailed off, forks paused midair. In the center of the celebration sat Tommy. He looked at me and around a mouthful of cake came a muffled, “Trick-or-Treat!”

  13. mchesnek

    I love October! I love the reds, greens, and oranges, even the browns. I love the smell of burning leaves and the way the gusty wind swirls colors and bugs around my head in a “woosh”. I especially love sitting on my front porch just before work and admiring all of these October things with a strong cup of black coffee to warm my mitts. But this day, like so many other days just before Halloween, I have to stare at flying swaths of poop paper! Nothing like white wet paper sticking to the dewey ground and empty tossed rolls stacked, one of top of each other, on my SUV radio antennae. What’s even better, having to clean it up before work at 7 AM. I run inside and grab a hefty trash bag and start collecting the dry hanging paper pieces. I take the bags to my basement and begin shredding. For the past ten years, I have shredded every piece of toilet paper that has been strung into my trees. 38 trash bags of the stuff line my storage room walls and I just added to two more. “It’s beginning to look alot like Christmas….humm humm humm…”

    I recruit my two nephews, who, themselves love to “TP” and I hope this will teach them a lesson. We pop the back hatch of the Tahoe and stuff in the bags. The boys had to hold a few of the bags in the backseat because they just simply wouldn’t fit. We were all dressed up in our super sneaky gear, black hats, ski masks, camo paint, dark sweatpants and of course, our walkie talkie headpieces. The past 3 years, the “perp” has been a 7th grade boy who thinks its funny to ruin a perfectly good fall display in my yard and chase my little terrier, Pickles, around on his bike, let alone the toilet paper. The previous years, it has been his brothers. Wow where did he learn this behavior from??

    At ten past ten, we made it snow. 40 bags of shredded paper translates to about 3 feet of the stuff. And unfortunetly, for the Miller boys, the ACTUAL forecast is calling for rain tonight. Needless to say, my yard and Pickles, my pup, were never bothered again. As for my nephews, well they still going TPing, after all, it is Halloween 😉

  14. KCHerbel

    It was that time of year again. The night when death’s gauzy shroud was lifted, the dead rose from their graves, and the neighborhood hooligans festooned my home with toilet paper. It was the same nightmare for ten years running, and a perpetual cloud over my annual All Saints’ Day celebration.

    Of course, I’ve tried many remedies. Once I loosed the hounds on them, but my best friends only frolicked with the brats and wet the paper. Then of course last year I sat in the dark on my porch, trusty scattergun in hand; loaded with rock salt of course. I awoke wrapped like a toilet paper mummy and nearly shot off my right toe.

    I had to put an end to it. It was them or me!

    “Razor wire and tiger traps?” I mused, while tended to my throbbing toe. “Maybe I could hire apes to fling poop at them from the rooftop…or ninjas! Wait! Where are those plans for a D-I-Y flamethrower?”

    At that moment, I touched my toe with the Mercurochrome and jolted up, striking my head on the medicine cabinet. As my eyes uncrossed, I had my epiphany: the perfect revenge.

    When All Hallows’ Eve arrived, I waited until well after dark and picked up my phone.

    “Hey, Mitch. It’s me. Yeah, I know what time it is. Well it’s not almost-midnight in California. I know we don’t live in California, Mitch. I did teach geography, after all. Hey, your boy left the house yet?”

    I listened to the grumbler on the other end of the line fumble with the phone and call “Johnny” repeatedly. He swore and said, “He ain’t here, but I…”

    I hung up the phone and caught the reflection of my blackened face in the front window.

    “Operation Smiling Jack is a go!”

    I slipped out the back to collect the supplies I had been preparing for months, then made my way up the drive and hid behind the box hedge next to the mailbox. I didn’t wait long.

    Little Johnny Hellraiser and his thugs came strolling up the moonlit street like they were on a date. It dawned on me that Johnny was 23 and I was now facing men.

    I popped out from cover and yelled, “Johnny!”

    The guys jumped and we all caught a cheap laugh as one of them scrambled back out of the bushes.

    “Mr. Kopecki,” said Johnny. “What are you doing here?”

    “I should ask you the same thing,” I said eyeing the rolls of toilet paper bulging from their jacket pockets.

    Johnny grinned. “I guess you know why we’re here.”

    “I know why you’re here, but do you?”

    They boys looked puzzled until they saw my box of black and orange streamers resting on the hedge. I traded them rolls and before long my house was ready for the next day’s party. As we surveyed our work, I patted Johnny on the back and told him I hoped he would come back every year.

  15. skdunning

    Kids. Urchins. Ritalin-addicts. Prepubescent dunderheads. I detest them. My shrink told me I suffer from ephebiphobia, among others. I have a trunk full of costly pills to address all of them.

    Apparently, killing teenagers is an act of murder, not mercy. So I attend anger management classes, group therapy sessions, and practice yoga, and I’m proud to say I’m officially coping. It helps that my house is solitary on its little hill. The housing developers never got the permits to build the rest of my block before the rare butterflies were discovered, so it was a no-brainer that I bought it.

    I digress.

    Halloween was a particular challenge for me each year, and the rotten good-for-nothing vandals could smell my law-abiding inability to act. For over a decade it had been a rite of passage for the monsters to drudge up my hill with all the toilet paper they could get their grubby mitts on. Last year, they Saran-wrapped my car and egged my garage door in addition to the white. streaming Charmin that turned my oak trees into weeping willows. My sister helps me every morning of the first of November by dosing my entire property with water so the toilet paper is washed away before I wake, but she shouldn’t have to. She should not have to sit with me in my dark room each Hallow’s Eve just to help keep my temper under control.

    This year was different.

    This year, I went on the offensive.

    My sister’s fiancé gave me the idea. “You realize what they’re doing is malicious mischief, don’t you?” he asked. “It’s a misdemeanor.”

    “Thanks, Brian,” I replied, “but I’m not a cop like you are. I can’t exactly enforce anything.”

    He shrugged, “I’m willing to help. Let me throw a party here. I’ll invite the precinct. We’ll take care of it.”

    Did I mention I love my future brother-in-law? “Isn’t that entrapment?” I asked.

    He shook his head, “No, entrapment would mean we forced the perps to do the crime. A person ready, willing, and able to commit a misdemeanor is not a victim of entrapment.”

    The party was a ton of fun, something I wasn’t expecting from a sting operation. I met sergeants, detectives, their wives and significant others. They all brought food and drinks and for the first time since I could remember, I actually felt like a human being, participating in normal, social interactions. Everyone was so understanding. I even stayed awake to watch the main event go down.

    Just as the hoodlums crept across the front of my lawn, my sister flipped on the flood lights, exposing their intent to the night. The entire house emptied of arresting officers, surprising the brats and their accompanying adults alike. Citations were issued for malicious mischief, breaking city curfew, inciting a mob, contributing to the delinquency of minors and being drunk in public.

    I summoned the courage to wish them all a Happy Halloween as the dawn broke.

  16. rbrophy

    It was Halloween morning and I was already fuming. I had already spent two hours just trying to log onto my Writer’s Digest account on my computer and I was out of coffee. This would have been enough for me to be in a foul mood, but then I remembered as my eyes flicked by the desk calendar that today was Halloween. I hated this infernal holiday, because it hardly held any credibility to even be a holiday. The only purpose I could see for Halloween was to offer an opportunity to vandals and freaks to “express” themselves. Well not this year! For the last ten years they had expressed themselves all over my home and trees with banners of toilet paper that I ended up spending the first week of November cleaning up every year. This year was going to be different! I decided to use my frustration for the extra energy I needed to do what needed to be done.
    I grabbed by long handled garden spade from the shed underneath the deck and went into my front yard. I began to dig. I dug and dug all day long and by the time I was finished there were 6 holes across my front lawn. They weren’t quite 6 feet deep, but they closely resembled graves enough to do what I needed.
    I filled the holes with all manner of unpleasantness – broken glasses, poisonous spiders, rabid badgers, etc. I then covered the holes with leaves and grass to the point that no one would ever no they were there.
    Sure enough just before midnight I heard screams of agony and pain. I looked out my window to see a half a dozen teenagers crying out from the holes in my yard. There was terror in their eyes and not a little bit of blood, and as I stepped away from the window I thought to myself, “I suppose you won’t be toilet papering my house next year!”

COMMENT